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Oct 2014
Deep within me, I kindle a fire
it is a feisty one, it asks to avow desire
throw caution to the winds,
throw my carefully built life in the pyre
not sure of anything, yet sure of mind
it tires daily, of the senseless grind
it begs leave, and pleads escape
to the highest peaks, of snowy cape
so I can see the land, its lie and shape
or the deepest seas, and their churning depths
but I must not be hasty, nor take too giant steps
One 'venture at a time, and back to the grime
Sly is she, faithful old time
she looks me askance, and what have I to show?
The usual treasures, I venture? she shakes her head, no
She wants my tales, be they of passion or woe
She wants my pain, that helped me grow
but I have nothing of the sort, that I can show
She laughs in my face, and calls me a fool
I have chased after ghosts, and missed life's school.
and so the fire burns, it begs me to start
collecting my pearls, of wisdom and heart
rowing my boat, into adventure lane
It is not too late, never is, to catch life's train
and set off for the unknown; unsure, untrained.
It is never too late, to wipe the slate, and set off.
Siddharth Penmetcha
Written by
Siddharth Penmetcha
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